“Seriously creeped out,” she puffed, a thick drop of sweat hanging from the tip of her nose. “But yeah, I think so.” The drop fell.
They leaned forward to help Todtman up. He let go of his amulet and the light coming from it faded. That’s when they realized that they didn’t need it anymore. The old station was already lit.
They checked the platform and walls for scorpions, then collapsed against it. Alex could see the details of the old subway station, like a tile mosaic that spelled out Worth St, but swoops of spray paint covered everything else. They were at the end of the platform, and toward the middle there was a curtain up, cutting off their view.
As their breathing calmed and their pulses stopped pounding in their ears, they became aware of other sounds. They heard muffled clangs and thumps and the not-so-distant sound of human voices.
Electric lights, like the kind found at construction sites, illuminated Alex and Ren as they stood up. Only Todtman looked down. Slowly, he pulled his left pant leg up, just above the top of his sock.
Alex nudged Ren and pointed. They all saw it now. The wound was high on his ankle and already beginning to swell. Todtman looked up and forced a weak grin onto his face. “Stung, I’m afraid.”
He winced as he let the pant leg drop, and again as he stood up.
“How bad is it?” asked Alex.
Todtman took a few steps, limping badly. “I’ll find out soon,” he said. “I didn’t see what kind it was. It’s the smaller ones that are most dangerous.”
“The pale ones?” said Ren.
“Yes.”
“How will we know if it was one of them?” said Alex.
“Because there’s a good chance I will die.” He forced another smile, but this one fooled no one.
“And if it was one of the big ones?”
“Then I will merely be in incredible pain. Now, let’s go see what all that noise is about.”
Alex took a deep breath. The part of him that wanted to find his mother hoped that the Stung Man was somewhere up ahead. The part of him that wanted to stay safe hoped he wasn’t. There was no question which part of him was stronger. He strode forward and took the lead.
The center of the platform was hidden behind a gray curtain hanging down from the ceiling and wrapping around in a semicircle. It reminded Alex of the Under Construction curtains at the Met, but this one was much larger and made of a heavy material that muffled the strange sounds coming from behind it. He and Ren approached it slowly so Todtman could keep up. He was grimacing from the pain but still focused. “If we find the Stung Man,” he said to Alex, “you know what you must do.”
“Are you sure it will work?” said Alex.
Todtman paused.
“No.”
“Wow,” said Ren. “Might’ve been better if you lied to us on that one.”
Todtman shrugged. “I think it will work …” He looked at Ren, started over. “I believe it will — if Alex made the right choice.”
Alex looked at both of them. “No pressure or anything,” he said.
Ren glanced at him. “No offense, but do you think I should have made the choice?”
Alex didn’t even pretend to be offended. He wished she could.
“Wearing the scarab comes with responsibilities, including the choice,” said Todtman. “Besides, how much do you know about ancient funereal texts?”
“Good point,” said Ren.
Alex looked away. How much did he know about them?
As they reached the curtain, the sounds of construction became louder. They found a long flap running just off center. “Ready?” said Todtman, one hand on the flap, the other on his amulet.
Alex clasped his own amulet and Ren doubled her grip on her flashlight, holding it like a club. “Ready,” they said.
Todtman pulled back the curtain. As soon as it was open, the noise became ten times louder. A power saw whined as its diamond-edged blade cut through stone. Steel chains rattled as they slid through a large pulley. Todtman paused for a second and then stepped inside as sneakily as he could. Alex and Ren took deep breaths and followed.
Half a dozen of the beefiest construction workers Alex had ever seen cut and chipped and chiseled away at a large stone structure. None of them even looked up. They continued to work, their eyes blank and their shirts drenched with sweat.
The massive lion statue reclined in front of a tall opening in the back wall. No chiseling necessary, Alex knew. Lions were a symbol of power in ancient Egypt, guardians of the eastern and western horizon. Meanwhile, Ren stared at the facade the men were constructing. Lengths of marble column had been cut into sections and lined up in front of it.
It didn’t take long to find the missing stone blocks from the bridge, either. Alex was so fixated on the individual pieces that it took him a few moments to realize what they were looking at. “It’s a tomb,” he said.
It reminded him of the large tomb in the first room of the Egyptian wing at the Met, a big stone structure that provided a bold introduction to a culture where people often spent more on their tombs than their homes. But as impressive as it looked, this was just the front. The halved columns and chunky capstones framed a twelve-foot-tall passage leading deeper into the abandoned station. The lion stood guard out front.
“They’re re-creating it for him,” said Todtman, edging forward. His voice betrayed a certain grudging admiration for the work. “It’s the Stung Man’s tomb.”
“And it will be yours, as well,” a voice called out.
Al-Dab’u stepped out from the shadowy mouth of the tomb and advanced directly toward them. He wore the mask, and his guard’s uniform had been replaced by a ratty brown robe that Alex could smell from ten feet away.
All his instincts shouted: Danger! Run!
But he held his ground. They’d come here, tracked the creature to its den, and they were staying.
They were fighting.
But they weren’t the only ones.
All around them, the workers turned from their tasks and began moving toward them, power tools in hand. “Uh-oh …” Alex heard himself say. Al-Dab’u’s hand shot up from his side in one fast motion, and Alex saw Todtman twist and then stiffen. Al-Dab’u squeezed his hand closed as he raised it up. Six feet away, a small gasp escaped from Todtman’s mouth as his feet slowly left the ground.
“He’s crushing him!” shouted Ren. She yanked at him, trying to pull him back down to the ground.
Al-Dab’u ignored her and concentrated on Todtman’s reddening face. Alex reached for the scarab, but he had no idea what to do. Wind would just ruffle Al-Dab’u’s robe, and this man clearly didn’t fear marbles. Maybe if I bull-rush him, break his concentration … That’s when he saw the first mammoth construction worker approaching with his shovel raised in the air.
Ren saw it, too. She lifted her flashlight like a club: a very small Viking preparing to charge. But Alex reached over and grabbed her shoulder: Wait.
He took one more look at Todtman: frozen a foot off the floor and slowly being suffocated.
Alex smiled.
“Are you crazy?” shouted Ren. “He’s crushing him!”
Alex just nodded toward Todtman’s hand. Al-Dab’u had clamped down a second too late. Todtman’s hand already held his falcon amulet. The worker slammed the shovel into Al-Dab’u’s shoulder, sending him reeling.
Todtman dropped to the ground, bending his bad leg slightly to land on his good one. He took a quick breath. “Go!” he wheezed. “To the tomb!”
Al-Dab’u climbed to his feet as Alex and Ren sprinted around him toward the tomb. They headed for the passage Al-Dab’u had just exited, which cut directly into the stone and concrete of the old subway station. They darted between the heavy gray columns and into the eerie tunnel.
Alex stopped to get his bearings and realized that Todtman wasn’t with them. He risked a quick look back and saw the German was still on the platform, crouched defensively, while Al-Dab’u warily circled him, holding his shoulder
. It seemed they had both learned something from their previous encounter. Alex felt like he was witnessing the end of a knife fight. And not necessarily a fair one: thug versus professor, death cult versus book club.
Ren turned to look. “We can’t just leave him there,” she said.
Alex knew she had a point. Al-Dab’u’s mask seemed to be at least as powerful as Todtman’s amulet, and it wasn’t clear whose side the other workers would take. Todtman seemed to sense their hesitation and glanced at them over his shoulder. “Go!” he shouted again.
Alex turned to Ren: “We have to find the Stung Man! But we’ll come back.”
Ren’s face was a mask of fear and indecision, but with one last look back, she followed Alex deeper into the tomb. She hoped there’d be someone left to come back to. The passage was surprisingly deep, extending well past the original station. There were hieroglyphic symbols along the walls and a faint glow that seemed to come from the ceiling itself.
Ren stumbled as she stared up at the light, and Alex pulled a few feet ahead. His hand was around his amulet. “I can read these now,” he said, his eyes full of wonder. “Most of them. I think it’s the scarab!”
Ren nodded, adding it to the list of things she wasn’t allowing herself to really process just yet. She had no idea how the amulets worked, but she definitely wanted one. Like the world’s best iPhone, she thought. Instead, she was left fighting the undead with a flashlight and a vague memory of first-grade tae kwon do.
They followed the passage deep into the surrounding stone until they reached an intersection.
“Which way?” she said.
“Do you even have to ask?” said Alex, pointing at the floor of the passage on the left.
“Right,” she said. “Of course. It’s the one with the scorpions.”
She remembered what Todtman had said: The small ones are more venomous. Fortunately, they were also easier to kick aside and stomp on. She just hoped their needlelike stingers couldn’t get through the soles of her shoes.
She was side by side with Alex now, a united front of stomping sneakers and wide-open eyes, moving as fast as they dared. Ten feet into the new passage, they heard a grinding sound coming from the floor. She saw Alex’s head shoot to the left and the right, reading the hieroglyphs on the walls.
“Jump!” he said.
They took a running jump forward as the floor snapped open beneath them. Alex cleared it with six inches to spare. But he was taller. Ren got the tip of her front sneaker on the edge — and that was it.
“Alex!” she called. Her back leg swung behind her over the open pit, her arms windmilling wildly to try to keep her weight forward. Ten feet below, the bottom was a living carpet of scorpions.
Alex reached back for her, but her flailing arm knocked his hand away. She began to tip back …
His arms wrapped tightly around her and yanked her forward onto the path. They tumbled over, her head swimming with relief.
“Got you!” Alex crowed.
Ren’s nerves were a jumbled mess, but she pushed Alex away, got to her feet, and tried to get it together. “Oh, great,” she managed. “Traps.”
They kept moving down the hallway, more cautiously now. Alex had put a few more feet between them when she heard him yell again, “Duck!”
Duck? A thick, slick sound filled the passage and Ren instinctively froze. There was a thin layer of sweat on her face, neck, and arms now, and she felt a light wind brush against it, chilling her.
She saw a flash of movement and her eyes widened in horror. A four-foot steel blade was swinging directly toward her. At a dead stop, with no time to react, all she could do was close her eyes and scream.
“NO!” shouted Alex from just up ahead.
Ren was braced for the slash of the blade, but all she felt was a breeze ruffle her hair.
And then she felt nothing.
She opened her eyes — which were somehow still attached to her body. “What happened?” she gasped.
Alex stood stock-still in front of her, his face frozen but his eyes practically spinning.
“Alex?” Ren asked.
“It … it went right over you!” he gasped. “I guess they weren’t expecting such a short grave robber!”
Ren met Alex’s eyes and suddenly they were both laughing hysterically.
First time being short ever did me any good, thought Ren.
A few steps later, Ren’s wash of relief turned to cold fear in a whiplash reversal. She didn’t even know what the sound was at first — just two sharp mechanical snicks — but she knew it wasn’t good.
Two narrow posts popped up along the walls, with vicious-looking wire strung between them in an X pattern, like a shoelace. There would be no jumping or ducking this trap. The wicked wires gleamed in the light and then there was another snick from deep inside the wall and the posts shot forward. It’s going to slice us into chunks! thought Ren.
There was no time to turn and run — and a blade and pit were waiting, anyway. All Ren could do was raise her flashlight up in front of her. Alex clutched his amulet with one hand and snapped his fingers with the other. It seemed like an odd final gesture.
This time Ren’s eyes seemed glued open as the deadly steel approached her skin. If she was going to go down, she’d go down swinging. She lashed out with her flashlight and hit a strand of wire. The thin steel cut a groove into the heavy plastic handle, but the wire was already unraveling, pulling apart as it whipped past. She felt a sting on her arm and another on her neck and then nothing.
Ren lightly touched the wound on her neck. It didn’t feel like much more than a paper cut. Then again, those hurt.
“Are you okay?” she called to Alex.
He turned back, a long, thin line of blood forming on his forehead. “I think so,” he said.
“What did you do?” she said.
“I snapped it,” he said, waving his amulet. “Top corner, like a shoelace … I’m pretty good at breaking stuff with this thing!”
Yep, thought Ren. I want one of those.
The end of the tunnel was just up ahead now. They stepped through — and into the inner sanctum of the Stung Man.
The first things Alex noticed about the chamber were the fancy tapestries that hung from the walls and the luxurious rugs on the stone floors. Then he realized that a three-foot-high stone pool in the center of the room was providing the light, a ghostly glow rising from the water inside.
His head swam as he looked at the luminous liquid. Somewhere above was the city and the sunlight he knew, but it seemed painfully distant. He felt confined and constricted by this place. By this tomb.
A slight movement in the back of the room caught his eye. There, on a rough-hewn throne, sat the Stung Man.
“There he is,” whispered Ren, her lips barely giving shape to the air leaving her lungs.
Alex tried to answer but failed.
Unlike the mummy clad in ragged scraps at the museum, this man was now clothed in regal robes. The angry welts and stings were still there, but the rest of his skin looked almost normal now. He rose to meet them. “I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he said, but only Alex understood.
“Is he speaking, like, Egyptian?” whispered Ren.
Ancient Egyptian, realized Alex, still clutching his amulet in a death grip.
It was terrifying, of course, to hear a dead man speak. The first ice-water shock of fear hit Alex and his knees flexed, but he didn’t run. He’d come all this way, and one word kept him there.
Mom.
What if she was nearby? What if she was in a chamber somewhere in this terrible tomb?
She’d done everything for him. He wouldn’t abandon her.
But now what?
I’m in a room with a walking corpse. There’s no denying it. He’s right in front of me. Now what?
He scanned the room, getting his bearings, readying for a fight. In between two tapestries, he saw a vertical gash in the stone. There were raised white columns on either side, and
the gap between them was painted a reddish orange: a false door.
The Stung Man stepped down into the room. His movements showed none of the stiffness from before. He moved fluidly, Alex noted uneasily, like the master thief he had once been. “Do you like it?” the Stung Man asked, gesturing around the room.
“What is he saying?” said Ren, her voice a mix of desperation and anger.
The Stung Man frowned, realizing he had only half the audience.
He turned to Alex.
“But you understand me, don’t you?”
Alex managed a weak nod. He understood him perfectly, not just his words but also his intent. With every word, and every step, the Stung Man edged closer. He had reached the large, glowing pool, and he tapped his fingers lightly on the edge as he began to walk around it.
“I know about you,” said Alex, his voice finally returning.
“Oh yes? And what is it you know?”
He can understand me, too. Alex continued. “I know how you … I know what happened to you.”
“Do you?”
Alex nodded nervously. The Stung Man was halfway around the pool. With every step the robed figure took, the amulet grew warmer in Alex’s hand, and the pulse grew stronger in his head.
“Perhaps you know the story,” said the Stung Man. “But do you really imagine you know what it was like, crouched there in that hot, dark cave?”
Alex’s imagination failed him. How could he concentrate with a predator approaching? This man is going to consume us.
He could feel Ren practically vibrating with fear.
“The stings I could feel but not see?” the Stung Man continued. “The wounds in my skin and the venom spreading like burning oil under it? You think you know? The stings that would not stop, even after I’d fallen: on my face, my neck, the soles of my feet?”
“Do you understand him?” whispered Ren, tugging at Alex’s arm. “What is he saying?”
Alex knew how terrified she must be, but he didn’t have time to stop and translate. He had to try something, had to stall him.
“I know why you did it, too,” he called.
Book of the Dead Page 11
